The legend of the Zero Year Soldiers

2200 is considered the Zero Year in Izanami history. Nine hundred years later, supposedly, the Zero Year Soldiers were born. In the year 3115, the 6 of them made their public debut and challenged Captain Steel to a scrap. All of them were soundly defeated. In custody, it had been revealed that they were all born on the same day in the year 3100. Anything past that is pure speculation as, thought to be in custody, the sextet vanished. All we know of them now are their codenames: Cosmic Rivera, eVe, SlowBurn, FaultOne, The Leak, and ZeroB-Low. Regardless of their status, the Zero Year Soldiers have amassed quite the fan base since their last appearance.

-Excerpt from the Bleednet OHWiki.

Hundreds of Uzrath milled about in an area that resembled a bazaar or market to Roxanne. It was arid and dusty, with multiple stalls lined up and down a strip of land. Roxanne was wearing a long cloth cloak complete with a hood over her head and eyes. However, this wasn’t a good enough disguise on its own. Enehva arrived with her disguise kit that she allowed Roxanne to use.

She looked like them now; a mocha bug with bright red hair. Roxanne caught her reflection, and her skin crawled. Now fully disguised, she completely understood a stray conversation a couple of the Uzrath were having with one another. They didn’t even register she existed. The situation was entirely wild for her. If she understood everything right, the prime ring bearer was still alive. Separate from that, their entire society was still alive and somehow thriving.

Although, that fact was up in the air because whenever Roxanne tried to learn more about it, they all clammed up and started looking down at their feet. Roxanne was tired of all these games, she was a stranger strolling through a strange land full of bug people, and no one ever gave her a straight answer.

She decided to focus on what was in front of her instead. Some Uzrath were heavily armed while others just milled about doing whatever business they had planned to do that day. Roxanne had trouble taking her eyes off the sky; sickly, green, and melting, same as anytime she had bothered to look.

Up ahead was an Uzrath arguing with another of his kind. The saliva flew out from their mandibles as they clicked at one another like a couple of rabid bears. The one that looked like a customer to Roxanne took a swipe at the other, the stall owner. The attacker wore a coarse fabric that covered their chest and lower body. Their arms and legs were bare; they had large forearms that stood out in contrast to their twig-like limbs.

The stall owner dodged the blow easily and reached for its leather belt pocket. Their top was a jacket with no sleeves; thin arms protruded from each side. In a swift motion, the stall owner produced a sharp blade from the belt, swiped up, and caught the other across the throat. The mantis head popped off and fell to the ground like a lost baseball.

Roxanne wanted to look away, but Enehva had stopped. A whole crowd had gathered around the entire scene. It was then when Enehva had finally spoken:

“This is what has happened to us.”

Roxanne wasn’t sure what she had meant. At least until the headless body had gotten up, it bent down casually, grabbed its head, and held it in the crook of the arm against its body, ultimately used to this. The two Uzrath almost celebrated like someone back home would when they’d scored a touchdown. The customer walked off—to another stall—while the owner just went back to inspect his wares.

“I don’t understand,” Roxanne said.

“Has C’hiad told you everything?”

“Hm? Who?”

“I don’t know when we first had met the light,” Enehva said. “Long before I was born, for sure.” Enehva had moved on from the former fight to the death. Roxanne had to take a second before taking her eyes off the macabre scene she had just witnessed.

“You mean The First?” Roxanne asked.

“Yes,” Enehva has placed her arms behind her. “To us, they were 'Chiad. I don’t know who named them.” She paused for five more seconds before saying, “Our people worshipped them.”

Roxanne wasn’t surprised. Perhaps it was a blind spot, but she was worshipped occasionally, so she wasn’t shocked to hear this. For her, it was always weird; she rolled with it the best she could. Whenever she found herself in such worlds, she would have to walk on eggshells.

“It’s never really talked about any of that,” Roxanne said. “I suppose it makes sense; I’ve always found it uncomfortable myself.”

“As did I,” Enehva replied. “But I realized that that too was part of The Balance.”

The term made Roxanne wince. How could she explain what she had done? She wasn’t even sure what it was that she did exactly. Roxanne wasn’t sure how she would even begin to explain that her partner wasn’t The First but instead a facsimile of her predecessor using her memories. Azonne, her predecessor, wasn’t sure if Roxanne had created a new balance or simply destroyed it, and on her best days, Roxanne was looking to prove that it didn’t matter. That darkness—evil, pain—wasn’t a fact of life, and it didn’t have the right to exist. That’s how she felt.

Sometimes though, during those quiet moments, she did wonder if she’d left the door open for something worse to come along, but she’d never admit that out loud. As a way to cope, she had decided that she wanted to define it before it defined her. That was the idea, but it was all still up in the air. There was so much to explain that Roxanne felt all she could do was clam up, emotionally and physically.

“I had dreamed of it since I was a young stripling before I became aware of the help it was giving us. I saw it every night. I now realize that it had chosen me at a very young age. Like it had chosen our people as a whole...” Enehva had stopped at a stall showing off jewels, rubies, and other glittering stones.

“What do you mean?” Roxanne asked.

“It uplifted us. Cared for us. The light taught us all the ways to create and forge new technologies. In essence, it helped us evolve. As I eventually learned firsthand, the other worlds were very primitive compared to our society.”

She started walking again; Roxanne had not followed, not immediately. One thing on the table caught her eye, it resembled a human finger, but it couldn’t be, could it? She thought about reaching for it when she noticed Enehva had gone from her side. She spotted her up a few feet ahead of her. She was easy to find. Most gave her a decent berth as she was of a higher class.

“Enehva, I just saw…,” Roxanne started to say. “I’m not sure what I saw.”

Enehva turned and looked at her. Her large eyes reflected a thousand Roxanne’s inside them. She looked behind Roxanne, back at the last stall.

“You’re not the first human we’ve brought here,” she said.

Roxanne stopped to consider that. She started to feel her tiny arm hairs rising, “You’d better continue your story,” she replied.

Enehva bowed her head slightly and continued walking. They turned left on a fork in the path to a part of the bazaar that seemed dedicated to food primarily, judging by the still-living things hanging in the stalls.

“In retrospect, C’hiad had given us the means to create the Cyntaf. They were setting into motion their legacy; the creation of the mantle. We had a few prototypes: a gun, a belt, even a vehicle.”

“And you settled on rings instead of…the gun?”

“Rings are vital in our culture.” Enehva held up her hands; she had a variety of bands around the appendages. Roxanne started noticing just how much jewelry the Uzrath had on their body. The only ones not decked out with rings were the armored guards, but even their outfits had a circular symbol on their chest.

“We required something that could hold and channel all that energy, but we all felt we needed a totem instead of just a tool. While a gun could do that job, yes, it was inelegant. A gun, or any weapon really, was also too aggressive. Our purpose does not always involve violence, as I’m sure you’ve experienced.”

“Sure,” Roxanne said with a shrug. “It’s only most of the time, instead.”

Enehva made a clicking sound that came off more like a chuckle. “Yes, I had a few scraps myself.”

Enehva stopped at a stall with different brightly colored fleshy tubes hanging off hooks. There was no signage, not that Roxanne could have read them at the moment, but they looked like hollowed-out snakes to her, minus any scales. They dripped on the floor a putrid liquid; Roxanne had to look away lest she retched.

Enehva continued to talk: “Not long after completion, C’hiad came to us mortally wounded. They were leaking a disgusting, vile black ooze from their torso; I came to find out it was part of the Nameless.

“As I said, C’hiad had planned for this eventuality, and we were ready. We housed the Cyntaf in a temple—it no longer stands—where we as a people carried on with our worship. We took C’hiad there and sealed the doors behind them. In the meantime, we held a contest to see who would be the one to wear them.”

“What sort of contest?” Roxanne asked while keeping a closed fist to her mouth; she felt like she could gag at any moment.

“Before C’hiad uplifted us, we were a warrior society. That never truly went away, no matter how ‘civilized’ we considered ourselves. So it was various duels to the death.”

“And you won.” Enehva bowed her head slightly and then finally moved on from the stall; Roxanne was so grateful.

“I knew I would prevail,” Enehva continued. “I felt a strong connection to it since I was a larva, as I’ve told you, and nothing would keep me from my fate and destiny.”

They had arrived at a seating area, most of the benches and tables were free, and the majority of the eaters simply did so standing up. Roxanne shuddered to consider what they might be eating; the squishy sounds of the flesh being rent asunder was nightmare fuel.

“With the mantle mine,” Enehva went on. “I continued to live my life. I saw the other worlds and helped them in the best ways I could. As was the purpose, I battled the Nameless, always to a stalemate; one cannot exist without the other.” Roxanne blushed at this and felt an immediate rush of anxiety. She pulled the hood further over her face and sat on the nearest bench.

Enehva either didn’t notice or pretended not to, but she also sat down. She was opposite Roxanne and continued, “My people loved me; they named me their queen. I had a lovely son, Ordlach, and wanted nothing more than to pass the rings off to him. I intended to ready him for it.”

“What happened?”

“Our star was entering the final stages of its life. It grew larger and would soon engulf all its inner planets, including ours. Our greatest minds devised a plan to save Uzrath, but it was too much of a risk to the mantle. If it didn’t work, the light could be gone forever, and it became clear to me then that I had to find a different successor. Ordlach was still too young; I had not yet told him my intent. Maybe I should have.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What was this plan?”

Enehva clawed on the wood-like material that made up the tabletop. She traced a circle repeatedly with the razor-sharp end of her claw. “Our scientists believed that each multiverse existed on a different vibrational frequency from our own, that it was more than just the Bleed that kept them separated. If we could somehow change our own—we could shift our world from this plane to another.”

“Shift your entire planet?” Roxanne looked around her, and diners appeared to return for seconds and thirds. “I guess you succeeded...”

“I suppose that is one way to look at it,” Enehva said. “We built Anti-Matter engines and placed them all across the planet. Anti-Matter because, in our brief tests, it proved to be the only agent capable of shifting the vibrational frequency of an object. For a long time, I believed that was our first mistake. Anti-matter was inherently unstable and unpredictable; we should have run more tests.” She paused to consider her following words. “I now believe our genuine first mistake was not accepting our fate. It was our time; we should have let things play out as they may.

“Regardless, we went ahead and built the engines. They required a singular power source to run; I offered to use the light and placed a fraction of its energy into a battery. It was my second to last official act as ring bearer. After that, I went to find my successor.”

“Who did you pick? How did you know?”

Enehva let silence fill in the gaps caused by Roxanne’s question. She seemed lost in thought before she finally spoke:

“I…I don’t remember her name anymore. Unfortunate. I remember that she was Desin; they were a race of all-female warriors who reproduced asexually.” Enehva said. “I remember that I connected with her very early on. Perhaps I had been guided to that choice by C’hiad? Seems likely, in retrospect.”

“Do you wish you had passed it to your son instead?”

Enehva didn’t answer; she just stared off into the distance. She lowered her gaze while thousands of other ‘what if’ scenarios played out in her mind. Roxanne leaned in close and asked:

“What happened when you came back?” Enehva had kept her gaze down. Roxanne considered that this might be a touchy subject. She reached out, put her hand on Enehva’s, and squeezed slightly. “Please, I need to know.”

Enehva looked up and looked to be taking a substantial inward breath; she forced a smile at Roxanne. “Once I returned, our scientists turned the engines on, and we shifted from this reality.”

“So I-we’re in an alternate universe right now?”

“No. Not quite,” Enehva replied. “That was the hope, of course, but our greatest minds always cautioned that there was just as good a chance it wouldn’t work as theorized. We’d end up somewhere else, or even somewhen else, but we all agreed to take the risk. It was worth it for the chance to keep our culture alive.” Enehva waved a hand in the air dismissively. “We are not in a parallel reality, but we’re not in our home reality either. We’re somewhere in between, constantly shifting back and forth between the real and the Bleed. That is why you’ve lost connection to C’hiad. You currently exist as we do: in a state of quantum flux.”

Roxanne had a hard time with this. It’s not an impossible thing she had heard, and she trusted her eyes and ears; hell, she trusted Enehva, but this was wild as cats. Roxanne wanted to know more.

“It sounds like you eventually planned on turning the engines off, right? At least if the planet had shifted to a different reality?” She asked.

Enehva nodded. “Right. But since the planet never truly moved, in that sense, turning off the engines meant certain death. The sun continued to grow larger and would have overtaken us had we not shifted out, and eventually, the star collapsed entirely into a black hole. Turning them off now would shift us back to reality, and we get crushed instantly.

“I see,” Roxanne said, nodding. “Definitely don’t want that.”

“On the contrary,” Enehva interrupted. “That is exactly what I want. What we all want.”

Roxanne’s jaw dropped at this. “Excuse me?”

“The engines, the anti-matter, both lead to a lot of…complications,” Enehva said as she clasped her hands together. “We can no longer age, no longer reproduce. The Uzrath you see here are those around when the engines activated. Elderly have remained as such for eons, as have quite a few larvae.” Enehva shifted in her seat as a pair of Uzrath nearby had gotten into a loud shouting match. No one paid it any mind but Roxanne. It was business as usual for everyone here. Enehva regained Roxanne’s attention when she continued:

“At first, we were all happy to be alive. Despite the small setback, we all felt we’d find a way to return safely to the real. But months became years, became decades, then centuries. Eventually, we grew bored.”

“Bored?” Roxanne was incredulous.

Enehva nodded. “Our second mistake. At first, we tested out the limits of our newfound immortality. It still happens from time to time, as you’ve seen already.” Roxanne thought back to the fight earlier; that was a game?

“Our young ones took to it very quickly; they called it Suicide Games. Ordlach especially.” Enehva paused here. She tried to keep a strong emotion at bay. Roxanne wondered if she would cry, but Enehva had regained her composure just as quickly as she had temporarily lost it.

“My son never had a chance to grow truly,” she eventually said. “Our life spans are, how you say, front-loaded? We grow very fast during our early years, reaching our adult sizes within a few years while the brain matures slower. Because of what’s happened, Ordlach is still barely past the larvae stage. Or a teenager to use your vernacular.”

“How do you know so much about us?” Roxanne asked.

Enehvas face grew dark. “Those games…they weren’t enough; our people grew jaded. The hedonism we devolved into required satiation somehow, and just being violent to one another was no longer satisfactory. Every so often, an errant ship would be exploring this galaxy sector, and it vexed some here that we couldn’t do anything about it but observe. It took some time, but we eventually discovered a way to pull other beings in here, so we did that. It was our final mistake, our final sin. Many different species would come and go through the system. Some we would let by; others we took.”

Roxanne had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “…what did you do?”

“Anything we wanted,” Enehva answered, looking sick herself. “We experimented on all kinds; tortured some; killed others. We’d build them strange new bodies to see what would happen, and, depending on fleeting whims, we would either send them back to the wild or put them out of their misery…,” she sighed. “Once your people started appearing among the stars…we had a new favorite.”

Roxanne’s eyes enlarged to about the size of two quarters. “You can’t be serious…can you?”

Enehva stared back at her, and Roxanne became aware of how petrified she felt. The primitive part of her brain wanted her to run; no, it was demanding she did. She recognized this and took a small breath. Roxanne knew that Enehva wasn’t telling this story to scare her or make her uncomfortable; this was a confession. Eventually, Enehva nodded at Roxanne’s question.

“I hardly recognize us anymore…and my son, gods, he’s made us worse. Especially once he had those…things made.”

“The rings I saw.”

Enehva nodded, “Yes, and, as you’ve most likely assumed, they are not the real thing. They’re perverted duplicates he had made once he found out that I had planned on passing the originals to him but chose not to. It infuriated him as I’d never seen before.”

“He threw a tantrum,” Roxanne said flatly. “I deffo got that vibe off him.”

Enehva paused, considering the word just said. Finally, she nodded and said, “Yes. He had a forger create a set of duplicate rings based on the original designs. He then extracted some of the energy I had left behind when I powered the batteries and began wielding that. Ordlach usurped me from the throne, not that I was doing any good for my people anymore. They had already gone so far down that in some ways, I saw it as a blessing; I was wrong.”

Roxanne’s ears perked up at the sound of a loud crash. A brawl had broken out amongst the crowd. Reflexively, Roxanne stood to do something, but Enehva grabbed her hand. Roxanne’s gaze snapped back; Enehva solemnly shook her head. Roxanne was reluctant, but she sat back down.

“The power in those rings is an unhallowed mix of anti-matter and the light,” Enehva continued. “It has given him power over life and death with our people. Now, he’s the only Uzrath that could kill a fellow Uzrath and uses that power liberally. The abductions have increased ten-fold, as have all the disgusting games he makes creatures go through at his arena.”

Enehva’s shoulders sagged heavily with each revelation. She took the time to re-compose herself before continuing: “The only silver lining to all this is that it allowed me to monitor the outside. It sparked something in me; old embers long thought dead. I could feel the connection; I could feel you, Roxanne. I could finally envision our salvation, but I needed him to bring you here. It didn’t take much convincing when I explained what you were.”

“Why? What do you want me to do exactly?”

“Drain the battery. Stop the engines.”

“You’d all die!” Roxanne screamed. “I can’t do that!”

“Roxanne, please, we’re so far gone some of us openly resist, like Sten and the others back at the base. We’re all just so tired. However, so long as my son rules, most Uzrath will not make that choice.”

“I can’t just help commit genocide; that’s what you’re asking me to do! There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Enehva said flatly.

“The people need to make that choice themselves then.”

“You would have to challenge Ordlach, defeat him in combat, and force him to relinquish the rings. Only then will they speak out. If I can be honest,” Enehva paused to find the right words. “After the last performance, I’m not sure you could.”

Ouch. Roxanne felt a wound in her pride, but Enehva wasn’t wrong. Roxanne’s cheeks flushed. Ordlach had outclassed her in every way during the fight; it didn't feel great. Roxanne cast her eyes and had so many reservations that she wanted to crawl into a small ball.

“Unless we re-establish your connection to C’hiad,” Enehva’s voice collided with her nerves and finally forced Roxanne to look up. She had spent the last minute staring at the back of her hands. Her heart pounded; she kept flashing back to that fight. It felt like a lump in her throat. She swallowed that bit of bile down and breathed heavily inward.

The world around her seemed to melt away. Soon she was surrounded by the sights and sounds of the coliseum; suddenly, all those blood-thirsty fans took on a new, menacing context. Ordlach floated over her head, silhouetted by the massive black hole in the sky that turned it into running wet paint.

“Are you alright?” Enehva had her head cocked to the side in confusion. Roxanne blinked and was back at the bazaar; the unease remained.

“Sorry, it’s just…a lot to take in,” Roxanne told her.

“Understandable,” Enehva said. “If I may, I have a theory.”

“What is it?”

“I believe they still reside within you,” Enehva replied.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not separated, in the strictest sense,” she answered. “The flux state has interrupted your connection, but I believe it may still be there waiting to reengage with it.” She paused to tap her temple.

“In my mind palace? That makes sense,” Roxanne had nodded. “I can almost feel my connection to her, just out of reach. But I still feel closed off to it. Every time I’ve tried to enter, it escapes me.”

Now Enehva nodded at her. She stood up and took Roxanne by the hand. “Come, I can teach you something.”

*

Enehva had led Roxanne back to the warehouse, where the performative resistance loomed around a fire. On the way back, Roxanne wondered if this was an elaborate stage play. With the added context, the finger from earlier made her heart pound. Enehva was telling the truth. The people had gotten sadistic and cruel; that was wholly true. Did that make this all part of the games they played?

Now, under the warm light of the crackling fire, she felt her connection to Enehva was real. They shared a lineage; mother, daughter, and sister connected across centuries and light-years. It gave her the strength to overcome fears and anxieties.

Almost.

Sten was where Roxanne had left him, messing around with his weapon. Flames danced in a steel fire pit that looked like an overturned goblet. The others ignored her presence but scattered at the behest of Enehva. Sten looked up at them as they approached.

“Well?” He grunted.

Enehva ignored the question, “May we use your pod?”

“Why?” He eyed her curiously. “Is she going to do it or what?”

Enehva glanced down at him; her look made him shrink even further. “Later,” she snapped. “May we?”

Sten nodded and bowed slightly, almost out of shame. “Of course, my queen.”

Enehva outstretched her hand toward Roxanne, indicating that she should follow. Sten’s pod was the last in the row on the left side, and his door was already open. It was a cramped little space. Armor and pieces of fabric littered the floor; otherwise, the area was sparse. A simple cot lay in the corner next to a small desk mounted to the wall. Roxanne had to get in and scrunch her shoulders just to get by the bed. She sat down at the edge while Enehva had closed the door behind them. Kneeling in front of the bed, Enehva indicated Roxanne did the same. It was a tight fit, but Roxanne managed to get down and sit on the back of her legs.

“Have you ever meditated?” Enehva asked her.

“Not on purpose, I don’t think.” Roxanne grinned; levity always helped.

Enehva blinked once, confused. She pressed on: “We have, or had rather, a ritual we would each perform once we came of age. It allowed us to truly see inside ourselves to understand who we are and who we can be. Most of us here had gone through it, but many of our youngest have not bothered and pushed back on attempts to do it. It has been so long I sometimes forget that I can.”

“You think this will help me?”

Enehva nodded. “You’ve been able to enter your mind palace so effortlessly before today. Now faced with a block, you subconsciously choose to throw your hands up rather than press forward. This technique will help you press forward to get beyond the tangled membranes, the reality shifting, and get inside to the real you.”

Roxanne blinked at Enehva, trying to make heads or tails about what she was telling her. After some reflection, it struck her: “The constant shifting between the two states has thrown up roadblocks essentially, is that it?” Enehva nodded.

“And the problem is, I don’t know how to navigate it?” Roxanne continued.

Enehva bowed her head slightly, “Indeed.” She placed Roxanne’s hand into hers and said, “Close your eyes. Control your breathing. In-and-out, slow and steady.”

Roxanne did so, and there was that feeling again: pins and needles on the edge of her periphery. Immediately, she could feel a tugging within her, an attempt to pull herself out and run away. Enehva continued:

“Repeat after me: Anail. Fòcas. Èist.” And Roxanne did so. “Again, say the words. Feel them wash over you. They are your shield. They are your keys. They will take you where you need to go.”

Roxanne repeated the words: Anail. Fòcas. Èist. Anail. Fòcas. Èist. Her skin began to tingle. The darkness brought on by the closing of her eyes faded as a faint white light started to fill in. Suddenly she was aware of herself: a body standing in the middle of this growing white light. Her cells sang, and her neural network shuddered awake. It all felt familiar; she missed it.

She took a step forward.